


Beach Day

by glitterfox19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Beaches, Day At The Beach, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Love, Toddlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfox19/pseuds/glitterfox19
Summary: Toddler Scorpius and Draco enjoy a day at the beach.





	Beach Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was a super-quick exercise meant on exploring character relationships. I also love writing the Malfoy family. Enjoy!!

“Daddy,” Scorpius said imploringly, with his long blond hair sticking up at every angle, “I must build a sandcastle.” Draco still hadn’t become used to the way Scorpius speaks. It was as though a very small, very emotional adult Apparated into his house and replaced the chubby, silent baby one night. It was bizarre.

“Can you help me, Daddy?” Draco had always referred to himself as “Dad” at home, but Scorpius much preferred the two-syllable version instead. Astoria giggled whenever he said it, though, so it wasn’t that bad. Draco leaned over and ruffled Scorpius’ hair. His son shot him a dark glare, too intimidating for a three-and-a-half year old. 

“Yes,” Draco said, “of course. Where do you want to build it?” Scorpius stuck his pudgy fingers into the sand. He appeared to do a brief texture analysis before sticking it in his mouth.

“Crunchy,” Scorpius declared. Draco gently, but firmly, took Scorpius’ hand out of his mouth. It amazed him how his son could be so advanced for his age, but also exhibit behavior typical of a toddler at the same time. 

“Sand isn’t for eating,” Draco reminded him. Scorpius looked at him carefully, studying how much he believed his father’s words, before nodding once and sitting down. It was unclear to Astoria why Draco insisted that he dress his son in crisp shorts, long socks, and ironed, collared t-shirts for every single occasion. For once, Draco agreed with her. He winced in sympathy for his house elves, who would no doubt be distressed by the amount of sand they would find in the creases when they did laundry. 

Draco set down the beach bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm that Astoria and one of his house elves, Alora, had helped him pack this morning. There were possibly hundreds of tiny bags of snacks, an umbrella, several towels, a magical camera, swimsuit bottoms for Draco, far smaller bottoms for Scorpius, as well as a swim shirt, a change of clothes for both Scorpius and Draco, and many more miscellaneous items that Draco believed was entirely unnecessary, but upon which Astoria insisted.

“You can have your beach day, Draco, for just the boys,” she had said this morning, entwining his hand with hers. “But if you don’t bring everything I pack, it’ll be a family beach day.” She had fixed him with a look; he understood, now, where his son got his sweet yet intimidating nature from. He had kissed her on the cheek, feeling something overwhelmingly and indescribably larger than the simple word ‘love’ could encompass. 

He pulled out an ugly canvas hat and strapped it to Scorpius’ head. Scorpius had looked up at him and turned up his nose, but there was no other fuss. There was a reason for why they were at a beach in a wizarding community, after all; when Scorpius had displayed his magic for the first time, he had set every single hat they owned on fire when Draco had tried to put a paperboy hat on him. It was impressive now, but momentarily upsetting to Astoria, who owned many dressy hats. It had been a bit hysterical for Draco, watching her torn between chastising her son, mourning her hats, and celebrating this milestone. 

The ocean behind them was receding slowly. It was dark blue, with white foaming crests that crashed down further and further away with each passing minute. When Scorpius asked him to fetch a bucket for the moat that he was building, he combed the water with his fingers. It was bitterly cold for late June. The toy blue plastic bucket holded hardly more water than his fist would. Surreptitiously, he cast a charm that increased the size. He didn’t want the few families out here to think that he was encouraging the usage of underage magic by helping out his son in this manner. And he didn’t want Scorpius to think that he wasn’t fully immersed in this project. 

Scorpius’s eyes were scrunched up and he was pressing up his cheek fat with his two tiny fists. Every five minutes, he’d carefully draw a line in the sand, or place down a rock. The intense focus on his face was a touch terrifying to Draco. His son was like a mini-architect, only with sand. He couldn’t wait until Scorpius was old enough to go to school. His accomplishments would be even greater, Draco was sure.

“Daddy!” Scorpius called, waving his hands. “It is essential that I have the water in the next thirty seconds, or the next stage won’t be able to start!” Draco jogged over, keeping the bucket away from his body to prevent any water from spilling. It occurred to him that he must look ridiculous, half-sprinting across a beach in semi-formal Muggle clothing, carrying a miniature toy bucket to his risible and stubborn son who uses strangely advanced vocabulary. It also occurred to him that he didn’t care. 

It took them well over three hours, but eventually, the perfect sandcastle was built. It was sprawling, with five “central” towers and seven guard towers, complete with a moat, a horses’ stable, and of course, a guard-dragon that had resulted in them delving into an ethical discussion about the rights of dragons.

“Daddy,” Scorpius had said. “I would like to craft a dragon to guard the castle and burn down mean people.” 

“Right,” said Draco. “How will you get one?”

“I will capture it,” Scorpius said, the same determined flash in his eyes.

“But is that fair?” Draco questioned. Scorpius had sat up and rested his cheeks on his knuckles, resulting in all of his baby chub to appear even squisher. Draco felt himself battling off the urge to pinch his cheeks like Grandma Narcissa would. “To make the dragon work because you captured him?”

“I will pay him in squirrels,” Scorpius proclaimed. “And if he wants to leave I will let him. And he can have cool sneakers if he wants.” Draco smiled and patted him on the head. There was no way he would tell Hermione that maybe he had listened during one of her painfully long monologues about how to promote house-elf rights during the weekly Ministry meeting. And absolutely no way he would inform her that her lessons were being passed on to the next generation.

The moat sloshed impressively. Draco cast a charm to make a tiny spurt of fire erupt from the sand guard-dragon’s mouth. Scorpius squealed with delight and threw his arms around his dad. “This has been the best day ever!” 

Draco held his son tightly in return. “It sure has, Scorpius. It definitely has.”


End file.
